


Kiss Cam

by zeldagalz



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: College AU, First Kiss, Football, Kiss cam, M/M, jeanmarco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldagalz/pseuds/zeldagalz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean never enjoyed going to any sporting events - except this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Cam

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: My knowledge on football is incredibly limited, so apologies for inaccuracies.

It was an unseasonably warm day in October, though Jean Kirschtein could hardly find reason to complain about it. He despised cool weather, and happily accepted the sun’s warmth as he made his way from sociology class and back to his college dorm. He checked his phone and grinned to himself when a notification was smiling back at him; a text message from his long-time best friend, Marco Bodt.

**Marco Bodt  
** _Hey Jean, are you busy for the next little while?_

Jean hummed with curiosity. If anybody else had asked him that, he would be much more wary in answering, what with it being such a loaded question. A question like that can get an unlucky soul roped into doing boring and mundane crap. Marco, however, was not that kind of person, and Jean trusted him.

**Jean Kirschtein  
** _Nope, just heading back to my dorm. What’s up?_

 It took less than a minute to get an answer.

**Marco Bodt  
** _Roomates hung a shirt on the door handle._

Jean winced sympathetically at his friend’s misfortune. Poor Marco had been assigned a dorm room with Eren Jaeger and Levi something-or-other, some French guy, and they tend to go at it like rabbits on a weekly basis. They were nice enough to let Marco know when, at least, by hanging a shirt on the door.

 As Jean approached his dorm building, he responded.

  **Jean Kirschtein  
** _You know what dorm I’m in. Come on up._

  **Jean Kirschtein  
** _Bring a bag of chips with you._

He grinned to himself as he entered the elevator to the sixth floor. Despite the fact Jean saw his friend almost daily, he always enjoyed Marco’s company, even if it was just after having lunch together. He stepped out of the elevator in an even better mood than before, and stepped into his dorm room.

“Hello?” He called in, and when he didn’t get a response, gave a victorious ‘whoo’. Connie and Sasha must be out for today, Jean figured as he deposited his books and papers across the coffee table. He only just sat down onto the couch when a knock came on the door. It opened shortly after, and Jean craned his neck to see who it was.

“Hey, it was unlocked, so…” The brunette’s voice petered out as he gave a warm smile with flushed cheeks.

Jean couldn’t help but return the kind smile. “Glad you did. I didn’t wanna get up.” He chuckled. “Connie and Sasha aren’t here for whatever reason, so the place is ours.”

“Sweet,” Marco hummed as he made his way over to the couch. He plopped down beside Jean as the other cleared a spot on the table for Marco to place his belongings. He laughed loudly when the first thing placed on the table was a large bag of chips.

“You said bring chips,” Marco reminded him with a grin as he opened the bag and grabbed a handful.

“You’re the best,” Jean said as he took a chip for himself; salt and vinegar, his favorite flavor. He knew him well. They chatted amiably about their classes briefly before Marco opened his own books and spread them out with Jean’s on the table. They both started their own work; Jean on his sociology, and Marco on his music theory and composition.

While Jean had no clue where to go in life, Marco has had his mapped out since he met him in high school. The goal for the brunette was to be accepted into the prestigious Juilliard School for Music and, eventually, to be a widely-renowned concert pianist. Jean had never heard his friend play before, but seeing as he was one of the top music students at his school, he figured he had talent. After working in silence for a long while, Jean turned his head to Marco with a small frown. To be honest, Jean hated sociology and was notorious for trying to shirk it. He paused to watch Marco work briefly, frowning at his sheet music dotted with music notes and written notations Jean couldn’t understand. He turned back to his homework with a deeper frown; he didn’t understand his own homework either. 

“Ugh,” Marco growled quietly. He tossed his pencil onto the table and leaned back into the couch. “I hate trying to compose music without my piano,” he complained aloud. “If Eren and Levi could keep it in their pants for more than a few days, then maybe I could actually get this done!”

“What’re you trying to write?” Jean asked as he too, leaned back into the couch. He shut his textbook in resignation; he’ll do it later.

“It’s the semester project,” Marco explained. The frown hadn’t left his face, and Jean found himself mirroring his expression sadly. He really didn’t like it when Marco wasn’t smiling. “We basically have to create a 7-10 minute long piece using whatever instrumentation,” he continued.

“You can do it,” Jean replied and tried to smile for his friend’s benefit. It worked, Marco quickly returning the gesture with a wide smile of his own. Jean found himself looking at the freckles scattered across the brunette’s face and chuckling lightly. Freckles really suit him, he thought. He glanced at Marco’s arm, clad in nothing but a t-shirt with his freckles spilling out and down his arm. He blushed and averted his gaze as his mind began to curiously wonder where the other freckles are hiding on his friend’s body. It had been occurring more often than not lately; Jean’s mind wandering and sometimes fantasizing about his best friend. However, he simply gave his head a shake and told himself he was being stupid. Thankfully, Marco hadn’t noticed his discomfort, and instead re-attempted his homework. Before Jean could follow suit, his phone buzzed beside him with an incoming message: 

**Reiner Braun  
** _Hey, you busy later today?_

Jean scowled with suspicion. Marco and Jean had graduated in the same class as Reiner, and he is now at their college on a full sports scholarship for football. He was an alright guy, though conversations between Jean and him were few and far between.

 “Who is it?” Marco asked, noticing Jean’s frown.

“Reiner Braun,” He replied. “He wants to know if I’m busy tonight.” He quickly tapped out his reply, choosing a safer route to avoid the loaded question. 

**Jean Kirschtein  
** _Why do you ask?_

**Reiner Braun  
** _I have a couple tickets to an event tonight. Wanna come? Marco can come too, I have two extra._

“Wonder what event it is,” Marco mused, now reading over Jean’s shoulder. “I’m not busy.”

“It’s probably a sports-related thing,” Jean growled. 

**Jean Kirschtein  
** _What event?_

**Reiner Braun  
** _Just a football game. I’ll buy food for you._

**Jean Kirschtein  
** _Dude, you know I hate sports._

**Reiner Braun  
** _Please?_

  **Reiner Braun  
** _Annie and Bertl can’t come and these tickets are for really good seats._

“Oh, say yes!” Marco whined. 

“You don’t like football either!” Jean exclaimed. “And if I go, you go. I’m not going alone. Or going at all.”

“He’s just being nice,” he reasoned.

“It doesn’t make me want to go.”

“Jean Kirschtein,” Marco started, and Jean felt his face heat up as the freckled man said his full name. “Since when did you refuse free food?”

* * *

“There better be some damn good food,” Jean growled. He now stood in a long lineup with Marco and Reiner, waiting to enter Rose stadium. All around them were people clad in either orange and black, or green and white, many of them intoxicated and yelling over one another in excitement. According to Jean’s ticket, the Trost Titans are up against the Karanese Scouts. He wasn’t certain what colours corresponded with what team; he didn’t even know which team was the home team.

“There will be. Stadium food is pretty good,” Reiner promised gruffly. Jean took note of the green and white jersey he was sporting, and made a mental note to keep an eye on the green team for Reiner’s sake. He looked at Marco, and Marco beamed brightly at him in return.

“I haven’t been to a football game since my dad took me when I was a kid,” He said.

“You haven’t been to one since?!” Reiner asked incredulously.

“I didn’t even sit through the first one,” Marco explained. “I started crying during the halftime show because the band sounded so bad.” Jean couldn’t hold back his laughter. Of course the music major walked out of the halftime show crying over the crappy performance.

“You don’t go for the halftime show,” Reiner huffed, and Jean watched Marco roll his eyes with amusement, not even fazed that he probably insulted the big guy. They finally reached the front of the line, where their tickets were scanned. The ticket scanner looked at all three of them, but when they saw Reiner, they gave a curt nod and waved us through without asking to check our pockets like other game-goers.

“The hell was that?” Jean asked while Reiner navigated the way to their seats.

“They know me,” he replied shortly. “I’m here a lot.” He didn’t offer more explanation, and Jean didn’t ask for it. They may get along well, but could otherwise care less about each other’s personal lives outside of campus. It took them a fair amount of time to find their seats; several people have already come inside to do the same thing and the crowd size was ridiculous. Once they found them and sat down, however, Jean found himself gaping in amazement. Reiner wasn’t kidding when he said the seats were good; they were practically eye level with the 50 yard line with the player’s bench to their right. 

“Holy cow!” Marco suddenly exclaimed, and when Jean turned to ask why, he got his answer. His freckled friend was staring at his admission ticket; namely, the price emblazoned on it. “Reiner, how do you afford these?!”

“You should see the price for a Superbowl ticket,” the big guy said gruffly. “These are complimentary from the Karanese scouts. They want me to sign a contract with them at the end of this school year.”

“Cool,” Jean hummed with partial interest. He figured the white-and-green jersey Reiner was wearing was another gift from the Scouts team.

“Is that what you want to do?” Marco asked, which surprised Jean and Reiner.

“I dunno,” the big guy said honestly. “They aren’t based out of Shiganshina; they’re the Away team today. They’re from my hometown,” he explained. “I don’t really want to move back there though.” Jean blinked at the new information. He never knew Reiner to be so open. Then again, this was Marco, and the guy was so sweet he could give the dentist a cavity.

“I think you should do what makes you happy,” Marco said pointedly, and leaned back into his seat. “Regardless of materialistic gimmicks.” With his bold statement, the trio felt into a slightly awkward silence filled by their own thoughts. It remained that way until a booming voice came over the loudspeakers, announcing the entry of the Trost Titans, the home team. The stadium exploded with cheers, and to Jean and Reiner’s shock, so did Marco.

“What?!” He retorted to both of them defiantly, and proceeded to hoot and holler equally loud as the Karanese Scouts spilled onto the field as well.

“You amaze me,” Jean managed to say before turning his gaze to the field. The marching band came onto the field with the teams, playing some obscure football tune as well as a line of cheerleaders. There was so much going on, he felt a little overwhelmed until the teams sat down on the benches so it was only the cheerleaders and marching band on the field. He could already hear Marco muttering about the musicality of the marching under his breath, and had to give him a firm jab in the ribs to quiet him. 

“Ow,” he grunted. “It’s true though,” Marco added. This time, Reiner on his other side shushed him. Before they knew it, the pre-game performance was over and the teams assembled on the field in a confusing manner Jean didn’t even understand. A whistle blew, and bodies crunched into one another as the football flew through the air above them all. 

“Why don’t they all go after it?” Jean asked stupidly, and Reiner sighed as the whistle blew again.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “Just cheer when the ball goes near that post.” He pointed to a post that he figured was the opposing team’s side of the field. Now that Jean knew Reiner’s stance between the two teams, however, he wasn’t exactly sure which one he was cheering for.

The game was relatively slow-paced but still an interesting sight to behold. Jean tried to not ask questions (“Didn’t they just throw the ball? Why are they lining up to throw again?” “Shouldn’t that other guy tackle down the one running for the ball?”) and just leaned back in his seat to enjoy the game. He – along with many other members of the crowd – visibly cringed and groaned in sympathy as someone was tackled to the ground with a sickening crunch, and yelled whenever Reiner did, because it seemed to be the right thing to do. Marco, however, was leaning forward in his seat eagerly.

“Wait, do you actually understand what’s going on?” Jean asked him with wide eyes.

“Kind of,” His freckled friend replied with a disarming smile that made Jean blush. “Old man Bodt is a real sports fan. There’s always some game blaring on the TV, and occasionally I’d watch.” He leaned back in his seat like Jean was and pointed. “Right now, it’s the third try on the twenty-five yard line for Trost.”

“English?”

“They have one more throw after this one to make a touchdown by the goalpost.” 

“They aren’t gonna be able to pull it off,” Reiner said grimly. “No way in hell they’re gonna make it.” As the three boys watched it unfold, it turned out Reiner was right. No touchdown. Just as the ball went flying into the air again, however, a loud siren blasted through the stadium, signaling what Jean could only guess was an intermission. The team filed off the field as the band returned, much to Marco’s chagrin.

“What do you guys want for food?” Reiner asked. He was standing up and stretching.

“Popcorn!” Marco said suddenly, and the other two males laughed at him. “What?” He asked with a blush. “Stadium popcorn is good!”

“Hotdog,” Jean answered with a laugh at his friend. “Movie popcorn is better.”

“Amen to that,” Reiner said in his gruff voice before weaving his way through the crowds that were forming. The band had started to play, and it was obvious to Jean that Marco was trying really hard to ignore them. 

“Hey, thanks for inviting me,” Marco said with a grin. “It’s a nice break from revisions and homework.”

“Thank Reiner, he’s the one who gave us the tickets,” Jean replied with a chuckle. He had become incredibly aware of how close they sat; both of them were reclined comfortably in their seats, with their arms and shoulders touching. If Jean moved his hand, he would be holding Marco’s. He didn’t dare move his hand, and instead let his eyes scan around the stadium. It was a huge arena that seated several thousand people, and the huge scoreboard that hung over the playing field flashed with advertisements on the screen.

“Wonder how heavy that thing would be if it fell.” Marco said, and Jean realized he was looking at the flashy ‘Jumbo-Tron’ too.

“Probably weighs a ton,” Jean agreed. “It’s a metal cube dangling a good fifty feet over a field, probably stuffed with electric wires and crap.” He watched the screen for a moment longer when it suddenly started showing audience members. The band had stopped playing, and now some Bruno Mars song was blaring throughout the stadium from the loudspeakers. On the screen, two audience members appeared to be talking animatedly with one another, unaware the entire stadium could see them. A graphic appeared on the ‘Jumbo-Tron’, circling the duo in a heart. 

“It’s the kissing camera!” Marco exclaimed.

“Hah?” Jean looked at him. “The hell is that?”

“Just watch it!” He said, and sure enough, once the two audience members realized that a camera was trained on them, they gave each other a quick peck on the lips.

“What the hell? So you have to kiss if that happens to you?” Jean asked in disbelief. “That’s lame.” Despite his disapproval, he found himself watching the screen with interest. The camera had found two adults, and they immediately stiffened in their seats and shook their heads, wearing the same embarrassed face. To Jean’s shock, the audience immediately surrounding the two started shouting ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ to them. The man looked at the woman and with a nervous smile, kissed her on the cheek, receiving a loud and disappointed boo from the entire stadium. The camera flickered to several other couples, some of them refusing to kiss and others not. The image flicked again to two males that were sitting quite close and looking up together. Jean laughed at their misfortune – they only looked like friends – when he paled in horror as one of the men on-screen laughed too. In fact, the laughing man on-screen looked exactly like him.

“Oh my god!” He yelled, and immediately scooted from Marco, who did the same thing. “No way in hell!” His face flushed pink, as did Marco’s. When he glanced up to the screen again, the camera hadn’t moved on to someone else. It sat trained on them, waiting. 

“Just kiss him!” A woman above him said with a laugh. Jean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He knew full well he wasn’t against kissing his attractive friend in the slightest, and would probably do it gladly. But what would Marco do? He feared his friend’s reaction above all else.

“Jean.” His voice was at a murmur, and when Jean looked at him, he found he was blushing furiously. He had a lopsided smile of embarrassment, and glanced up at the screen again just like Jean had. They could both hear the stadium collectively yell ‘Kiss!’ at them at this point.

“What do we do?” Jean asked. His heart was pounding against his rib-cage so hard he was certain it was going to bust open. Marco shrugged.

“Should we just..?” He had started worrying at his lips with his teeth, eyes on Jean.

“I guess?” He shrugged and swallowed hard. “We’re pretty close friends, right? Like a kiss will matter,” he lied.

“Right,” Marco said slowly, and shifted himself closer to Jean. Jean he felt a hand press itself against the back of his head and tug him close to Marco. He realized that the hand was Marco’s hand, and before he could even react to that, their lips were connected in an abrupt kiss. His lips were warm and welcoming and even softer than Jean thought possible. He leaned into the kiss, and so did Marco, until the hand that was still in Jean’s hair pulled their lips apart. A chorus of ‘aww’s from the crowd seated in rows above them shocked Jean back to reality. They had just kissed in front of an entire stadium.

“Whoa,” was all Jean could manage. He didn’t expect to find himself so breathless, but when he looked at Marco, the ability to breathe became irrelevant. He was  _smiling._

“Whoa,” he repeated back to Jean with a quiet laugh. Jean’s face broke into his own wide smile with a chuckle. He didn’t even hear the song end and the band start back up again to end the half-time period, or Reiner return until he spoke.

“Did I miss something?” The big guy asked, and it seemed to snap Marco out of his reverie. He let Jean go, but Jean noticed his hand brush his as he did so, which made his stomach flip.

“Uh, yeah,” Jean said, clearing his throat. “Sort of.”

“Kiss Cam,” Marco explained shortly, his cheeks flaring with another blush. Cute, Jean thought.

“Oh,” Reiner hummed in understanding. He passed Jean and Marco their food before sitting down with his own drink. “You didn’t hear it from me, but that thing caught Bertholdt and Annie once.”

“You’re kidding,” Jean laughed. “What’d she do, punch the camera man?”

“Yup,” he chortled as Marco tossed a handful of popcorn into his mouth. He seemed even more relaxed than before, and Jean smiled when he leaned against him with his head on his shoulder. Jean may not understand the point of football, but at least one good thing came out of today.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [[x](http://walkingbitchfest.tumblr.com)]


End file.
